


Lovestruck in the August Rain

by BlixaLooksCarsick



Category: Megami Tensei, Persona 5, Shin Megami Tensei, persona - Fandom
Genre: Cozy, F/M, Intimacy, Post Game, Rainy Mood, lazy day, mini quest, relationship, weekend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27943571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlixaLooksCarsick/pseuds/BlixaLooksCarsick
Summary: A rainy Saturday afternoon is a nice chance to get close and cozy, until...
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Niijima Makoto, Kurusu Akira/Niijima Makoto
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Lovestruck in the August Rain

Ren and Makoto usually found no shortage of reasons to just stay in during a rainy afternoon. Even no reason at all was good enough. They were three years into their relationship, and the demands of their respective careers kept them apart much of the week. The hours of quiet and closeness they found in between were a precious rarity. But rainy days were their most reliable respite, when the rhythm of the world slowed down in a distinctive way. Their days as Phantom Thieves were behind them, but Joker and Queen could yet steal some time for themselves and one another.  
  
Saturday dawned with a thick downpour. There was no sign of the rain letting up, as the clock dialed four in the afternoon. It was dark inside of Ren Amamiya’s small apartment. Only the television screen shed some modest light in the small bedroom, barely reaching the end of the mattress on the floor. The only sounds within were a series of Chinese action films playing on tandem, and the quiet, gentle breathing of Makoto Niijima as she slept. Her boyfriend was not far behind, but a strange, nagging sensation kept him anchored against the lulling of the present.  
  
It felt vaguely urgent, but he could not quite put his finger on whatever it was.  
  
Their day had started well enough. Makoto arrived at the end of his shift, a bit later than usual for her coffee. She looked happy to see him, but the accumulated stress of the past few days showed in her eyes. Makoto tried downplaying it, but nearly everyone present at LeBlanc could have called her bluff; Boss certainly did, and so did Morgana. She took the teasing light-heartedly, but she still crumbled as soon as she stepped into Ren’s bedroom an hour later.  
  
The young woman was hesitant to admit it, out of embarrassment - but she probably would end up spending this day catching up on the sleep she lacked. However, Ren had a little something to pamper her before she sunk in. Yakuza flicks were a staple in Makoto’s favourites, but lately she found herself intrigued by Chinese police thrillers, especially if they featured impeccably choreographed hand-to-hand combat. Days ago, Ren happened to encounter the perfect, sublime midpoint between the two sub-genres.  
  
The first movie retained Makoto’s attention in full. It was a story of a Hong Kong detective who infiltrated the Triads as an undercover agent, all the while his conflicting loyalties threatened to pull him and his loved ones apart. It had everything that Makoto enjoyed, including the acquired taste of a bittersweet ending. The sequel had Detective Wei Shen continue in the line of duty, taking the fight to a cult orchestrating bombings on New Year’s Eve. She started to nod halfway into the movie’s length. The final movie in the trilogy was a shabby horror-action spin-off in which the now-Inspector had to fight off legions of jiangshi to save his girlfriend.  
  
Five minutes into the movie, Makoto asked him if Futaba had recommended this one (which she had). The strange, not very tasteful mixture did not tease her usual aversion to horror; in fact, it barely retained her attention at all.. The sum of lulling rain, comfort and beloved company eased her into sleep just a moment after. Peaceful as she looked, her arm still held Ren firmly across the waist, probably in the same way she held her favourite panda-faced stuffed animal. This felt to him like an invitation to join her. But tempting as it was, something kept him up: a steadily growing worry. A few minutes later, even Inspector Wei Shen roundhouse-kicking Hungry Ghosts back into the afterlife could not keep his eyes on the screen. Something was amiss, and he was on the verge of discovering what it was. All he needed was a little push in the right direction.  
  
A shove, perhaps.  
  
Maybe a kick on the lumbar region, as one half of Lavenza used to do.  
  
Finally, it dawned on him, brutally so, just as the valiant protagonist dragon-kicked a hopping vampire through a restaurant’s window. He was supposed to pick up something for Boss that day. A samovar, commissioned to a craftsman, Tomohiko Sassa, in the neighbouring district of Shimokitazawa to impress a distinguished Russian food journalist. And as it happened, said journalist would arrive tomorrow.  
  
Ren looked at the time on his phone, and instantly began to pray that the craftsman’s store was still open. Seeing as how it still rained outside, one could assume Sassa-san might as well call it a day. The frantic process of getting ready to go out began with him delicately lifting his girlfriend’s arm from him, inwardly cursing himself. Secure that Makoto slept peacefully, he threw on the nearest clothes he could find, and stopped only for a few seconds to look for his umbrella.  
  
However, despite the relative austerity of the place, he could not find it. For a brief moment, he considered calling LeBlanc, in hopes that Morgana would somehow pick up the phone to tell him if he left his umbrella at the café. He immediately discarded the idea. It was not that the uncanny sight of a cat picking up the phone and meowing into the receiver could reflect poorly on LeBlanc’s ambience. Rather, Mona would more likely be snoring away in the attic he inherited after Ren moved out.  
  
Following a sigh of resignation, Ren put on his jacket and braced himself for a stormy sprint. If he was lucky, he may catch a taxi soon after walking out into the street. He carefully shut the door, walking down the stairs in muffled footfalls. Meanwhile, Makoto continued to sleep peacefully, only stirring ever so slightly a few seconds later.  
  
[ ]  
  
The rain was not as heavy as it seemed back in the comfort of the apartment. Still, Ren felt the chill in the air creeping up on him as he ran through the streets. He took shelter under trees and store awnings whenever he could, but never stopped for long. The place was still a few ways away.  
  
Now, aside from cursing his forgetfulness, he cursed his luck. Had he caught a taxi, he would be there already. But in the end, he also underestimated the particularly competitive spirit of Tokyo citizens when it came to catching transportation. One thing was the unforgiving daily commute; getting a taxi under the rain was an entirely different beast.  
  
At the very least, the rain seemed to grow thin.  
  
Minutes later, the craftsman’s façade was within view. And in one single breath, Ren thanked every deity he knew, for the store was still open. It was at this point that he realised how spent he truly felt. As the rain eased down, he saw less necessity to find cover. Eventually, the only clear and logical thing was to run like hell hounds were at his heels. Somehow, by some miracle, most of the traffic lights were in his favour when he reached a crossing. And there were barely any people to dodge as he ran. He considered that perhaps his luck was not so terrible that day. But a taxi stopping just a few meters to his right made him rethink that. There was hardly any use for transportation at this point, but the world might as well taunt him now for his carelessness.  
  
His step slowed to a more relaxed stride. There was room for him to breathe. However, after a long tenure as leader of the Phantom Thieves of Hearts, his eye for shadows hanging in the periphery was quite sharp. And now, there was a peculiar figure hanging in the corner of his eye. It approached suddenly, in a strange way. Even before Ren could turn to look, it seemed as if the figure hopped in the air.  
  
All at once, he thought of just how deserted the streets were today. Images of the movie he left unfinished flooded his head; hungry ghosts, furious demons… and hopping vampires. Ren’s fighting instincts kicked into gear. But despite his well-honed physical conditioning, he was not in the Metaverse, where he could make full use of his skills. And even Marty Yun Lee had his hands full in the movie. Alas, the mysterious figure was already upon Ren, fixing him with tired-looking red eyes.  
  
“You forgot to bring an umbrella.” Makoto said with no amusement in her voice. The signs of interrupted sleep and having just tripped after getting off the taxi were written on her face.  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“You’re gonna get sick running like this under the rain. You could have woken me up to come with, you know..” Makoto fidgeted with her umbrella, which she found quickly after discovering her boyfriend had gone out under the rain. A few seconds longer and she would have missed him entirely. “Not that this thing is any good now, I guess.”  
  
“I guess not.” Ren was flustered.  
  
“Why did you leave like that?” She asked bemusedly.  
  
“It’s not a very long story, but it’s a stupid one. I’ll tell you on the way.” He pointed towards Tomohiko Sassa’s store.  
  
Makoto responded by spreading the umbrella over them. She held to his arm, keeping the falling raindrops at bay - for what little good it did, now that the rain was barely more than a trickle. A reluctant grin showed on her face as her boyfriend spoke.  
  
“Wow.” Makoto said as they neared the place. “I can’t say I haven’t been forgetful sometimes myself, but that was the worst timing, Ren.”  
  
“About as bad as not catching the one taxi working today. Did you really tell the driver to just ‘follow that dashing young man’?”  
  
“Perhaps. It was a very awkward ride. He may have thought you were a thief, seeing as how you were running. I truly hope he didn’t call the police.”  
  
“Oh dear. Well… It’s been a tough week.”  
  
“I bet. Try using post-its sometime?” She grinned with a touch of snark.  
  
“Noted. Well, here we are.”  
  
They walked into the craftsman’s shop. The place looked as empty as the streets outside, save for the owner, who looked at them with an air of tedium and impatience. For a moment, neither could say a word, out of embarrassment and nervousness towards the man’s stone-cold countenance. More than a man, he seemed as if he were himself crafted out of rock and jagged scrap. The famous Tomohiko Sassa was currently occupied polishing a rather elegant piece of pottery with large, calloused hands.  
  
As suspected, the stone-faced artisan simply grunted when asked about Sojiro Sakura’s commission. He made little haste to interrupt his current task to fetch the samovar stashed away in the back. While he was gone, Ren and Makoto shared in the liberty to shudder, and not because of the draft whistling in. They also gazed curiously where they stood, finding all sorts of familiar and strange objects in the shelves around them. Some things looked useful and practical, others purely decorative. But the plentiful mosaic of it all stirred a particular string of thought: could they imagine owning these for their household, if they were to move together?  
  
Neither Ren nor Makoto brought it up for the moment, but the latter took special note of the address, just in case.  
  
The man returned with a large, cylindrical object cradled in his arms. Even under the dim lighting of the store, the samovar’s brass surface gave off a bright, luxurious sheen. And when he laid it on the table, its finer details came into view; it was every bit a work of art as it was a device to make tea. Before wrapping it in newspaper, the craftsman relayed the instructions for use upon them both, with vehement insistence and a very distinctive choice of expressions. Seven minutes later, Ren and Makoto walked out of the store after a crash course on tea-making and samovar-maintenance. The rain stopped completely, just in time as Ren cradled the samovar in his arms.  
  
High up in the sky, the sun shone its last for the day. There was no hurry to get back to the apartment. Their together became then a leisurely stroll.  
  
Makoto felt a few nagging words pushing their way out. She tried stopping them, same as back in the day, when she clumsily tried revealing her feelings to Ren. And once again, those words were out already before doubt could overtake her.  
  
“Hey, don’t you think he was addressing us strangely?”  
  
“I can’t think of a single strange thing about that man, or his words, or his establishment.” Ren agreed, in his own way. “How do you mean, though?”  
  
“I think, no... I suspect that he was thinking we were a… a couple.”  
  
“But we are, aren’t we?” His eyes met the timid, yet eager expression he so loved.  
  
“A married couple.”  
  
This made Ren stumble. Makoto kept him from falling before the panic of possibly ruining Boss’ new treasure reared its head. Yet the sudden, flustered look in his face still made her laugh heartily. The samovar was safe and sound, but the newspaper wrapping was slightly undone near the top. The tip of burnished brass that showed through caught the light of the vesper sun.  
  
It was just a little blinding. But in the luminous reflection, Ren saw Makoto’s eyes like they were deep pools of honey. Her cheeks looked slightly flush, and the rest of her was white. He was almost mesmerised by the effect, but he knew this was more than an illusion. This was something he dreamed of, constantly.  
  
Two words were forming in his head. But it would be some time before he got to say them.  
  
“I’m still game if you are.”  
  
Makoto’s ensuing smile did all the talking. She said no more on the subject, for fear of speaking more than she should. There was a little secret hidden away in her room. It was in itself a mere trinket, a stand-in for the real thing; but its shape and purpose mattered. Years ago, she quietly berated herself for not taking the initiative with Ren. She would make up for that, and then some. It was only a matter of ‘when’ to ask the question. But perhaps she ought to carry this little thing around, just in case he meant to surprise her.  
  
Dusk was upon the cityscape when they made it to LeBlanc. Their walk was pleasant enough to make Ren forget the inevitable. And indeed, Sojiro did not look amused in the slightest, finding that the ‘kid’ had left this important errand for the last minute. Sassa would have closed early if not for Boss calling ahead of time. Ren apologised profusely, to both Boss for forgetting, to Makoto for dragging her along, and to Morgana for waking him up as they walked through the door. Sojiro waved it off with a noncommittal gesture and set out to wash the samovar.  
  
By now, there was little desire to finish the third movie. So Makoto and Ren decided to stay in the café for a bit. She took a moment to observe the walls around her. This place and her life had changed so much since she joined Ren and his friends. There were new additions, like photographs on the wall, below the still striking Sayuri; but the charms of the past remained like a beating heart. Years ago, she was content with pouring herself into notebooks and doing as she was told. Now, she was pursuing her dream and contemplating a life with Ren in the long run.  
  
Dates on their free time became days spent together. Their days as Phantom.Thieves were behind them now. Yet the extraordinary had given way to a lovely kind of mundaneness that filled her heart whole.. She wished to think this is what her father would have wanted for her. A life in which the simplest things meant the world.  
  
Sojiro returned with the samovar, primed for use. Looking it now, itt felt as if LeBlanc had kept an empty space just for this artefact to eventually come. Boss looked quite proud to have it, and all the previous annoyances wore off instantly.  
  
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” He said.  
  
“It really is.” Ren agreed.  
  
“What do you say, you two? Are you in the mood for tea?” Boss asked, obviously eager to use the samovar.  
  
“I definitely am.” Makoto answered, just before giving in to an impulse of decision. “But… is it okay if I do it? Sassa-san taught us how.”  
  
Boss looked genuinely surprised.  
  
“Go for it, Miss.”  
  
Makoto shone as she went behind the counter to prepare tea for three. Boss had the tact to tell her she was not quite there yet, but he liked the tea nonetheless. Ren had nothing but praise for her, even though his palate was not too accustomed to tea. Regardless, Makoto was enthused about brewing more tea in the future, and eventually getting it right.  
  
Ren was always the one to brew the coffee for her. She thought it was only right that she brewed tea for him. True to her wish and suspicions, this cup was only the first of countless many. Rainy evenings on August were never again quite only that.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my fic for the ShuMako Zine, a printed project I was delighted and honoured to be part of. This piece was also paired with Patchie's magnificent work.
> 
> Do check them out at Twitter dot com.
> 
> https://twitter.com/shumakozine  
> https://twitter.com/patchiecakies


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